


The Keeper of His Memory

by sansakatara



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Character Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:47:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27687148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansakatara/pseuds/sansakatara
Summary: If you were to tell Arya that there would be a time that she would find it difficult to see Jon, she would have called you mad or stupid.
Relationships: Arya Stark & Sansa Stark, Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Jon Snow & Arya Stark
Comments: 1
Kudos: 56





	The Keeper of His Memory

I.

If you were to tell Arya that there would be a time that she would find it difficult to see Jon, she would have called you mad or stupid.

But that was the very reality she was experiencing now as she sat outside in her car. As she tugged at her shirt, perhaps as a distraction from what she must do – she made a mental note to buy more maternity clothes. At that thought, a conversation she shared with Sansa a few days before flashed through her mind.

_“I haven’t really thought about it. What did you think you were having, when you were carrying Wylla?” Arya said into the phone. She readjusted the pillows on the couch, trying to get a comfortable position. Perhaps it was the unrelenting summer heat, or her tiny frame – but Arya did not enjoy being pregnant. She felt a surge of sympathy for her mother, who had given birth to five children in her time._

_Sansa snorted. “I was a bit preoccupied with other things, to be honest.” Arya could well imagine. While Arya sometimes felt fear coil in her stomach at the thought of having a child, she was also married and an adult. Sansa- Sansa had been seventeen. After Sansa had told their parents, Arya had come to her room later that night. At first, she wasn’t sure if it was a good idea or if Sansa would even want to talk to her. It was not as though she was Jeyne Poole or Myranda Royce. But Sansa hadn’t told her to leave, and Arya had sat cross-legged on Sansa’s canopy bed – listening as Sansa confided in her. She told Arya that telling their parents she planned on raising the baby had not been the hardest part, but seeing the disappointment in their eyes. “I always felt like I had to be perfect. I wanted Mum and Dad to be proud of me.” Sansa said pensively. “I don’t think they’re very proud now.” She lowered her eyes._

_For most of her life, Arya had felt second to Sansa. Perhaps that was why they fought more often than not. She had never really thought about what it would be like to be on the other side- and to then fall. Arya is pulled back into the present. “Ultimately, I just want it to be healthy.” The word is heavy with meaning. Sansa picks up on Arya’s tone. “Are you seeing him tomorrow?” She asked, as if Arya had not visited Jon most weeks- since things had changed. “Well, of course I am. He’d – He’d know if I wasn’t there.” Tears prick at Arya’s eyes. Stupid, she thinks. Jon didn’t know if she was there either. But Sansa seems to understand. “I know.” She says, softly._

She did not think she would ever get used to the sight. The smooth white marble stone, the sun’s rays reflecting upon it- giving it an obscene sort of beauty.

Jon’s grave.

Jon, who would have smiled to see Arya visit him.

Jon who had been her first friend and who had she loved the most of her siblings- cousin that he was- was now gone. It made Arya want to cry.

“Hi Jon.” She whispered, touching the stone. “I’m five months pregnant with Cricket already, can you believe it?” Cricket was what she and Gendry called the baby. “I guess we should start thinking of proper names now, though. I don’t think my mother would approve of her grandchild’s name being Cricket.”

The truth was she had already started thinking of names long ago and had asked her elder siblings how they had chosen their children’s. For Robb, family played a role. Minisa for their maternal grandmother, and Ned for their father. For Sansa, it was the meaning. “Wylla means resolute protection.” She had told Arya, after gifting her a bunch of baby name books. “The first time I would ever say her name, I wanted it to mean something like that- as if she would always have it.”

There was no answer, save for the sound of grass swaying through the breeze. What else was she excepting? She could not hold back her tears anymore. What was the point in talking to Jon about this, when he would never know her child anyway? Her child would never have the memories that Sansa’s own daughter did.

While hers and Jon’s relationship had been deeply close, his and Sansa’s had been more distant. It was not the absence of love- but simply the inevitable reality of growing up in a large family. Sansa and Jon were like two planets, orbiting the Sun. Until one day they had collided. It had been Jon who had accidentally learned the truth of Sansa’s pregnancy. It was, therefore, him, who had encouraged her to tell her parents- and he had offered to be there when she did.

It was Jon who said that he believed in Sansa when her parents expressed worries over how young she was. There were pictures of Jon holding Wylla as a newborn. Pictures of Jon with Wylla aged 4 and grinning toothily, in her ballet outfit. He had been a fateful attendee of her ballet recitals. It had been him who had given Wylla tickets to Swan Lake for her 7th birthday. Arya had been there, and the way Wylla had leapt in his arms had reminded her so much of herself with Jon it had made her heart ache. Wylla had adored Jon, just as much as Arya did. And he had loved her back. Her child would never have that.

Never, never, never. Arya knew she wasn’t being fair. After all, Robb’s own children would never really know him either. Minisa had been two, and Ned a babe. Minisa had stopped asking when Uncle Jon was going to visit them. But of their siblings- she and Jon had always been the closest. 

Choking back a sob, Arya kisses her hand before pressing it against the stone.

II.

She’s exhausted when she gets home, and just wants to curl on the couch, but Gendry is merciless. He’s finally finished the project that he’s been working on for the past few weeks, and is ready to reveal it.

Arya wants to snap at him to leave her alone, but he’s got that determined look so she sighs and goes with Gendry to the bedroom they’re planning on converting to the nursery. They still need to clear it of its things and prepare it for the baby, but they’ve got time. Although Arya had learned that wasn’t always true. In the corner of the room is a wooden rocking chair. She can’t help but gasp in delight, going over to it. “You made this?” She asks, running her hand over the armrests, admiring its smooth surface. Gendry grins. “I remember how much you liked the look of that rocking chair we saw a while back. I know we said we’d buy one but-,” He pushes back his black hair. “I wanted to build it myself. Reckon I could do a better job for our kid. Do you like it?”

Arya answers him with a kiss. As Gendry’s arms hold her, she thinks of Gendry and the pride in his voice when speaking of our kid. Her child would never know Jon. She would need be the keeper of his memory, so they would never be in doubt just how important Jon was to her, and how much her brother would have loved them. But Gendry had reminded her that there were plenty of amazing people that her child would still know and be loved by.


End file.
